Body Image
by thelivinggirl
Summary: We don't see ourselves as beautiful, and that's fine - as long as there's another to see it for us.


Finland sighed, standing in front of the mirror after a world meeting. He had taken a shower, and his husband was currently taking his, so he had a few minutes to stand uninterrupted in uncommon scrutiny.

Sometimes, he really hated world meetings.

Seeing all the nations gathered together, it was a little too difficult not to compare himself to them. All the ones around his size – England, North Italy, Japan, China, Norway, Iceland, and all the rest – they were so… so…

_Thin_.

He hated saying it, he hated _thinking _it. It just made him feel even more like a girl than he already did, what with his shiny smooth blond hair, his round face, Sealand and Ber calling him 'mom' and 'wife'…

But let's face it. The rest of the countries his size had a thin, nearly androgynous look to them. He, on the other hand, looked like some sort of perverse mixture of male and female; clearly male chest, but hourglass hips that unbalanced his figure and belonged on a woman. Despite his relatively high voice, he had a rather pronounced adams apple that looked absurdly masculine next to his thin shoulders and complete lack of arm muscles, on which even the most effeminate men had him beat. He had a tiny bit of a pudgy stomach, something that both sexes rejected. And finally, he reluctantly turned in the mirror, his ass. Each cheek obnoxiously perky despite being large enough to fill out the width of his hips, he couldn't miss how they jiggled in a way slightly similar to Ukraine's breasts while he walked.

"…Ev'rythin' 'lright?"

Finland eeped in surprise, grabbing his towel off the floor and holding it in front of himself like a shield (though more like a security blanket). "S-Su-san! Eh heh heh… I didn't hear your shower turn off…"

His husband just stared that impenetrable stare of his. Then, "Y' were… lookin' at 'cherself. Seem... unh'ppy."

Finland chuckled nervously. "Umm, unhappy, Ber? Why would I be unhappy?"

"…"

"I mean, it's not like I should be unhappy looking in a mirror! Because if I was, I'd be unhappy with myself! And I'm definitely not!"

"…"  
Tino sighed. "Ber, please say something? You know how it weirds people out when you just stare."

"…S'rry." The Swede grunted, walking closer to his wife. "Why… 're you unh'ppy?"

Finland looked down at their feet. "I'm not."

Sweden lifted his chin. The tall man had _nearly_ the same look he always had, but Finland could tell that the center of his brow was lifted a little in concern. "Y' sho'dn't be unh'ppy. Y're beau'iful."

Finland gave him a small smile and stood on his tiptoes (with Berwald bending down a bit) to give him a kiss. "Thank you, Su-san." His husband said nothing, but took his Tino's small hands delicately in each of his own, his callused fingertips gently pressing against the Fin's palms, and pulled him to the bed.

Berwald sat down on the edge of the bed, guiding Finland to straddle his lap. He slid his hands down Tino's sides, reverently holding his wife's wide hips as he pulled them closer and hunched over to kiss under Tino's adams apple. The towel was cast onto the floor, and Tino wasn't sure he had felt this vulnerable in front of his husband since their first night on the run.

"B-Berwald," Tino tried to say, his lover's lips at his adams apple making his voice quaver strangely.

"Mmph?"

"Ber, just… please don't." Finland removed his husband's hands from his body. "I'm not in the mood tonight."

Sweden straightened and blinked down at him, confused. Sure, Tino usually said no if Berwald tried to do things while dinner was cooking or while Sealand was around, but he almost never refused him in the setting of their room at night.

"…Why?"

"I just don't feel comfortable right now."

"…D' ya need p'llows?"

Tino wanted to laugh at his husband's sweet naivety, but didn't want to hurt the larger man's feelings. "No, Su-San… I just don't feel like I really want to. It's not because of you. You're wonderful." It was true; he was so dissatisfied with his body at the moment, it was hard for him to feel sexy for Berwald.

Sweden looked down at his wife's sad face. He knew he wasn't the smartest man, or the most perceptive, but he could tell when something was wrong with his spouse. Slowly, but surely, his mind connected the dots.

"T'no… ya _are_ beau'iful. Why d'n't ya th'nk so?"

Tino puffed out his cheeks childishly and looked away. All in all, it was an expression eerily reminiscent of Sealand. Berwald redirected the Fin's face towards him again. "T'no…" The tone was pleading, not stern (though it was rather difficult to tell the difference when it came to Sweden); he didn't have it in him to be stern with his 'wife'.

"I just…" Tino trailed off. "I don't like my hips, or my bottom." He blushed furiously as he revealed his insecurities to the steady gaze of his husband. "And my stomach isn't exactly… flat." His arms wrapped around his waist uncomfortably.

Berwald frowned, a look that was more than a bit frightening. Tino tried not to cower, but sometimes his beloved's face scared the heck out of him! Suddenly, Berwald half-dragged him to the head of the bed, laying the Fin down as he leaned over him. "Ber, what-" Tino tried to protest, but Sweden held up a hand to get him to stop talking. Tino waited as his husband seemed to choose his words carefully.

Berwald was a little uncomfortable, as he was never really good with words. But if Tino didn't quite want Sweden to touch him, what choice did he have? "H've I ever t'ld ya," he began, "H'w much I love yer b'dy?"

A bright red blush instantly lit up Tino's face. "Su-san, you don't have to-" His husband cut him off again, this time with a calloused finger to Finland's soft lips.

"'Cause I do." Berwald continued. "When yer makin' dinner an' ya sing s'metimes, yer hips kinda d'nce…" Berwald blushed nearly as brightly as Tino as he spoke, but he persevered for his wife. "I jus' wanna c'me up b'hind ya and push ya up 'gainst the c'nter. Ev'n when Peter's right there, I still th'nk 'bout it."

"Su-san…" Tino breathed, but this time it didn't sound like a protest; it sounded like awe.

"An' when yer home an' yer wearin' that w'rm pink sweater an' the neck's so wide th't I can see yer coll'rb'nes, an' it rides up ov'r yer belly. Ya look so s'ft and… pr'tty." Sweden removed his glasses and nuzzled into Tino's neck as he gently placed a rough-skinned hand on Finland's stomach and rubbed his wife's malleable body.

Tino made a small sound as he felt his partner slowly but surely coax his body into a state of arousal with both his touches and words. His breath was coming faster, his mind overloading with sensation and shock; Ber, his strong, silent husband, was practically talking dirty to him! And he was surprisingly good at it, if the muffled sounds of encouragement finding their way out of Finland's throat were any proof.

Berwald cautiously allowed his hands to rove, palming a handful of flesh here, twisting a nipple there. His wife moaned in his arms as the two of them entangled their bodies, Sweden gently pulling and pushing their bodies together as their hardening penises rubbed between them.

"Aah… Su-san…" Finland clenched at the back of Berwald's neck and shoulder as a slick finger probed his entrance. Berwald grunted in return as he moved the digit in, making Tino mewl wantonly at the feeling of rough calluses rubbing at his insides. Sweden added a second one, splitting them and drawing them back together to make allow Tino's body to accommodate his large girth.

"Hon, I'm ready…" Tino said, looking up at the hulking man who held him so tenderly. Berwald nodded and, with Finland's help, lifted the smaller man's legs to rest in the crooks of his elbows. Sweden couldn't help but look down as he slowly pushed in to Tino, his cock disappearing into the stretched-open hole.

Flustered and overcome, he squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, just feeling the tight heat around him, perspiration slicking the backs of Tino's knees, and his wife scrabbling at his back as he started to move, because God it felt so good.

Berwald may have been a little timid much of the time around Tino, but he definitely wasn't shy as he thrust hard into the willing body beneath him, a rhythm that possessed Sweden as his entire being narrowed to the places where he was touching Finland's body. Not a single thing could be wrong at this moment, he thought, not when he was solidly anchored in the one place that filled the ache in his chest.

Tino cried out as his hips canted up to meet each thrust – not every one was perfect, but more often than not they hit his sweet spot. Berwald's head was pushed into his neck, occasionally rearing up to press kisses to his lips and face. Finally, Sweden pressed his forehead against Finland's, the two of them panting into each other's mouths as their lower bodies humped frantically together. Berwald finally reached an absent hand down to stroke Tino's cock, and just before they came together, Berwald grabbed Tino's face and stared forcefully into the Fin's hazy, stunned eyes as they helplessly fell apart.

….

They lay together in the aftermath, each indulging in their favorite post-cotial activities; Tino cuddled up to his husband, pressing their chests together so he could feel both of their heartbeats, and Sweden touched his wife all over, dragging his hands up thighs and shoulders and hips and stomach.

Finland gazed lazily over at the stand-up mirror in the corner, not with hatred nor love – it was just an object. The way he was reflected in Berwald's hard stare was much more important.

**Reviews take less than 30 seconds to write, and make my entire day!**


End file.
